


midnight in reverse

by sluttychans (inviserata)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Paris, Angst, Fluff, Honestly idk what this fic is yet im just writing it because im bored, M/M, Modern Royalty, Photography, Prince Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, fluff??, i'll add more as i write, photographer johnny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inviserata/pseuds/sluttychans
Summary: In does not matter how anyone looks at it; Ten is the crown prince of Thailand, and falling in love in the middle of a Parisian winter does not fall anywhere near his plans. Lest it would be with a tall, funny, and charming photographer.As complications arise, Ten races against time to choose between two things: love and responsibility.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	midnight in reverse

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has no outline--but i do not intend on making this extremely long,too. Hehe i hope i can finish it!

It has always been difficult for Ten to get accustomed to the cityscape in Europe. It sets him on edge; the unfamiliarity of the horizon-- all but an unsatisfactory monotonous palette. The wind picks up its pace as Ten walks over the cobblestone street. His hands were freezing from the winter and he sure hopes that he could leave the place already.

Two weeks, his father’s advisor says. 

He scoffs at the thought of it.

Ten shoved his hands back in his coat; raw from the constant rubbing in dire hopes of creating warmth (It does not, however, help). His eyes blinked back from the wind, the coldness snapping his jaw shut. Suddenly, a soft, incandescent glow bathed his face with subtle warmth. 

Ah, finally, he thinks.

A man, presumably in his forties, waved at Ten’s freezing figure from the inside. He beckoned him to enter while walking towards the glass door, a welcoming smile creeping up his slightly wrinkled face. The man pulled the door open and warm air bursted out into the street.

“Your majesty,” the man says, a tinge of accent coloring his voice, “come on in.”

Ten’s face crumpled at the honorifics. He--well, he’s not a fan of it. He walks in on the cafe, hands busy removing his thick scarf. 

“I am not a fan of European winters,” he greets, a hand extended to the man.

The elder stared at Ten’s hand for a few seconds before realizing what it meant, “Getting it on with western greetings, huh?” he cackles. The man shook his hands and Ten returned it with a tight, yet respectful grip.

“No,” Ten jokingly retorts, “ my other hand fell off a while ago because of the cold.” 

The man laughs, unafraid of making noise inside the small cafe. Ten’s eyebrow cocks up at his behavior. “And you sure do make a lot of noise, uncle.” 

His uncle chuckled at him, motioning with his palms open to offer up a seat beside the window. Suddenly, all the joy warming up his features were wiped away, replaced by the hard set of his jaw and steely eyes. 

“So you’re back?” His uncle asks, tone imperceptible.

Ten stares. So, he’s worried about that again. He coughs lightly. 

“Not for that reason, no,” his tone on a level with his uncle, “I’m here for an official business on behalf of the monarchy.”

His uncle considerably loosened up after hearing his reply. He leaned back on his chair and grabbed his coffee from the table. He nurses a few sips before saying, “I can’t handle you if you came here to,” he pauses, emphasizing in his next few words, “have dalliances.”

Ten’s face almost froze in shock. It was such a good thing that he knows how to manage through such offhanded comments.

The words were unspoken but it was as clear as day. Dalliances with other men, it is. 

He almost couldn’t handle the atmosphere of accusation hanging in the air. It pisses him off to a huge degree-- but family ties are never clean. Uncles remain to be slathered in ignorance and utter homophobia. But his uncle’s concerns are not based just off of prejudice. It is a long, hidden fact that the monarchy could not publicly expose such dalliances. Moreover a crown prince doing it. 

If it comes to the worst part-- the expose-- perhaps, Ten could get his entire inheritance and title stripped.

He swallowed shakily and gave his uncle a polite smile in response. There is no use to denying such things. Ten figures that it is better for him to not say anything at all.

Smile and nod. He thinks. Smile and nod.

The air seemingly felt stifling in such a small space.

A small pop from his phone interrupted the tense atmosphere. He quickly pulled his phone out and looked over at the notification. It was a message from his secretary. Ten instructed him to message Ten at precisely eleven in the evening. 

“Uncle,” he smiles, lips drawn into a thin line, “I should get going,” he stood up and wore his coat, “I have certain appearances to do in the morning.”

He swung the scarf over his shoulders, movements fast. He does not even let his uncle speak or even utter goodbyes at him. 

He does not want to hear any of it. 

He leaves the cafe in a hurry. Ten walks nimbly on the streets with his arms crossed to shield him from the cold; yet his eyes do not wander, rather they are trained on the road in front of him.

Ten doesn't even bother to call for a chauffeur. He knows it is risky for a crown prince to just walk up the streets of Paris by himself, yet he needed some space, and the time to think. 

What better place could it be than a taxi cab. 

As Ten reached the main road, his bundled arms hailed for a cab. Fuck, he thinks. It’s eleven in the evening. A cab is literally nowhere in sight.

After some time, a cab appeared on the road but it was occupied. The light on the taxi sign was off. Ten sighs. 

Maybe he should really call for a driver. 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He opened his eyes back up and saw the cab pulled over to his side of the road, still occupied by a man sitting beside the driver.

The window rolled down and Ten was almost close to hightailing back to the cafe.

Fuck it, I’d rather talk with my homophobic uncle than be picked up my men in cabs.

“Hey,” the man says, Ten looks back at him to see an asian man with an undercut inside the cab. “You should get on this cab with me. No cabs pass by this street at this hour.”

Ten’s eyebrows cock up at such a ridiculous proposal, “If you think I’m a prostitute, I’m sorry but I’m not.”

The man bursted out laughing inside the cab, his hands immediately went to his face to cover his mouth. 

“Do I look like I could afford you, if ever you are?”

Ten shrugged, trying to downplay the nervousness creeping up his bones.

“Look, I’m serious.” His voice changed, almost worried, “I’m gonna get dropped off in like two blocks and you look like you’ve been standing here for ages.” 

The man is not wrong. He has been standing here for ages. Ten glances at his phone and sees that it has been more than half an hour since he stood here. He feels like his hands are going to fall off from the cold.

“You’re a real suave murderer, aren’t you...” Ten pauses, cueing the man to state his name.

“Johnny,” the man flashes his teeth at him and continues, “And no, I am not a murderer.”

“Okay, Johnny who is not a murderer,” Ten scoffs, “what makes you think I’m gullible enough to fall for that.”

Johnny smiles at him, the light banter seemingly keeping him amused. “You’re not. You’re also not stupid enough to wait in here until your hands fall off because of frostbite.”

He laughs back at his words and thinks to himself. It would be fun to die in the hands of such a charming murderer. 

Ten takes a risk and opens the cab door for the backseat. He immediately called his secretary and turned off the mic.

He slots his head into the middle part of the car and glances at Johnny and says, “Look, if I actually do end up getting murdered, I have my location on and I’m currently on a call with a friend.”

The man turns his head to side and smiles at Ten. “So where should the driver drop you off?”

Ten chuckled at him, “Now you’re not only a murderer but also a stalker, huh? I’ll wait ‘til you get off and I’ll tell the driver where.”

Johnny sighs with a smile on his lips. He decided to drop the subject and leaned his head on the car window.

Ten turned on the microphone and listened to his secretary frantically ask questions about his whereabouts. Ten ends the call and sends him a text message regarding his state. When he looked up, the cab rolled to a slow stop. 

Johnny looked back at Ten and says, “I guess I won’t be able to murder you tonight, huh?” His hands were busy rifling through his wallet for the fare. He glanced back at it and fished a couple euros and handed it to the driver. 

Johnny then quickly unlocked the door and left the cab. Standing on the pavement, he looked back at Ten with a smile and said, “Have a safe trip.”

Johnny slammed the car door shut.

Ten bit his lip to hide the slight smile tugging at his lips. The night turned out to be an exciting one, he muses. The cab left the side of the road and Ten sat back on the cab.

He looks at the cold city that was draped in snow and says to the driver, “Take me to The Ritz,”

The next morning, Ten woke up to a slight cold. 

He sniffles through breakfast, armed with a newspaper and scones stuffed into his mouth. His spectacles placed neatly atop his face as he browsed through the news. French is definitely not for him.

Folding the newspaper back to its original state, he looks at the window and marvels at the familiar sight. He’ll never get tired of seeing Eiffel Tower no matter the season. 

A sharp ring from his phone disrupted Ten’s train of thoughts. He picked it up, not bothering to look at the caller I.D. There’s literally only one person who knows his number--

“Taeyong, tell me all about it,” Ten stood up from his chair, scones and morning tea be damned. 

The sweet, rumbling voice of his secretary emanated from the other line, “Good morning, Your Royal Highness, I am here to talk about your schedule this morning,” Taeyong chirps.

Walking towards his closet, Ten asked, “I have no schedule for lunch and dinnertime?”

His free hand rifles through dress shirts and suits, looking for a comfortable fit to change into while he waits for the day to start. At the end of the rack, a black tracksuit caught his eye. Yanking it free from the hanger, Taeyong starts talking.

“No,” Taeyong pauses, Ten could imagine him looking again at his planner, “Your Royal Highness has no official business after your appearance at the embassy this morning. The consul general would like to welcome you officially.”

“Hmm,” Ten sniffles, his cold acting up again, “you have plans after this meeting?”

Taeyong replied immediately, taken aback by the question, “Y-Your Highness?”

“The stuttering implies that you’re shocked,” Ten puts his phone into speaker mode and places it on top of his bedside drawer. 

He strips from the robe and wears the tracksuit, “I actually do take my employees out for a meal from time to time.”

His secretary’s voice comes out as enthusiastic, “I’d love to accompany you, Your Highness.” Ten could practically hear Taeyong curtsy through the phone.

“Great,” Ten says, picking the phone back up and walking back to his bed, he plops down, “wear something warm. We’re eating lunch after this.”

He almost hangs up immediately after reminding his secretary--but before he could forget, Taeyong pipes up, interrupting him. “Should I go over there and help you dress up for the meeting, Your Highness?”

Ten’s hand froze halfway from hanging up, “Sure. Come over within the hour, or else I'll go right back into sleep,” he does not wait for him to reply, instead, he hangs up completely afterwards. Silence washing over his hotel room immediately.


End file.
